Spring is Here

This weekend I was finally able to do the activity that proves to me that winter has loosened its grip on this area: I was able to sit outside and read--after hacking, smashing, and tossing into the shrubbery the layer of ice on the front porch that several feet of snow had congealed into, a thoroughly satisfying activity in itself.

I laid on my swing, gazing through the leafless branches of an elm at the tufts of cloud in the sky, listening to Hugo Friedhofer's wonderful score to The Best Years of Our Lives on my iPod. And then, high enough in the sky so that their formation was a V, then blown by the wind into a ragged W, a flock of geese soared by. I don't read as quickly when I read outside--but I don't care.